Ed eats
Cuba Bistro
St George’s Road
St Julian’s
Tel: 2010 2323
Food: 7/10
Service: 8/10
Ambience: 9/10
Value: 7/10
Overall: 7.5/10
If you’ve already sailed through your twenties and are still feeling young, all you have to do is mention a bar or club with someone who is just a decade younger to feel old. The blank stare says it all. Chances are that the place you are referring to has changed hands, names, and décor a couple of times since the last time you’ve visited.
It seems like Paparazzi has a worthy successor, and I see those red polo shirts being kept very busy throughout the summer
Old stalwarts of entertainment and drunken debauchery have gone the way of the dodo, making way for snazzier iterations of the exact same thing. They promise new ‘concepts’ and yet they still dish out the same dodgy tequila to unsuspecting youngsters.
Fast forward a decade and these youngsters’ livers will be like mine, their recollections of clubs gone by will be just as hazy, and they will be feeling their age when telling a youngster about a particular night out at a now-defunct bar.
As The Stranger tells us in The Big Lebowski, I guess that’s the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuating itself down through the generations.
Somehow, even though this happens to me more and more as age takes its toll on me, I’m often shocked to see one of the more revered establishments close shop. Had you asked me whether The Alley could ever have vanished, I’d have sworn on my whisky that it wouldn’t have. Had you asked me the same thing about Paparazzi in Spinola, I’d have taken the same oath.
Well, Paparazzi is no more. If you didn’t know this, I feel like I’m telling a kid the truth about Father Christmas. I’m sorry if I’ve shocked or surprised you. You’d have found out sooner or later so better get it over and done with.
Café Cuba has now risen from its smouldering embers like a mighty phoenix. For a long time it looked like nothing was being done to Paparazzi’s remains. Then, all of a sudden, Cuba Bistro was cheerfully serving its wares to a packed terrace. Let’s deconstruct that sentence.
It was sudden because on one day the terrace was vacant. A couple of days later, it had been repaved. A couple of days after that, the landmark wooden bar that gave Paparazzi its signature profile was up and serving drinks to an umbrella-covered, al fresco dining area. It is cheerful because it seems like every member of staff has been given a mandate (or a drug) to be perpetually cheerful. And the terrace has been packed solid since all this happened.
I was in the area with a couple of guys earlier this week and we were lucky to make it to one of few vacant tables. Service was jolly and rapid – a good thing because we were in something of a rush. We ordered ribs that were not spectacular but did the trick.
The grilled chicken thighs were once again unremarkable but perfectly functional and pleasantly seasoned. My ‘El Gringo’ burger was a little disappointing. It was good but not great and the last time I’d ordered the same item from Café Cuba in Sliema it had been excellent. Had I not tasted their own version of the same burger I’d probably have eaten it happily, worrying very slightly about the crumbling bun and overlooking the overly lean patty.
Unfortunately, comparing it to its sibling, is as always a bad idea. I put this down to teething problems and just enjoyed being on that hallowed terrace in excellent company. We had a large bottle of water and a couple of soft drinks, paid €45 for the lot, and headed on to our next engagement with full bellies.
Later on in the week I visited again, this time accompanied by my more gastronomically demanding better half. This time we were really lucky. The last table available was a table for two and, by the time we were looking through the menus, a line of people had formed at the entrance to the terrace. That’s how popular this location is and summer will only exacerbate the rarity of a vacant table.
Once again, we were treated to good cheer by all team members who popped by to present menus, take our orders, and even just to ask if all was fine. Cuba Bistro has taken the wise decision not to skimp on staff so the little army that patrols the terrace in red polo shirts keeps things moving along quite smoothly.
I was tempted to go for a pizza. The last time I’d ordered one at the Sliema outlet I remember being very pleasantly surprised. Pizza is always comforting and I’d just been beaten up by a friend posing as a physiotherapist so I was in need of comfort. Then I spotted ‘vitello al limone’ and the very sound of it was comforting. My choice had been made.
All was not so simple on the other side of things. The decision seemed like a tough one and I took the sensible decision to keep out of it. Finally it looked like the fresh fish was a likely option but I agreed with this so it was ruled out. The octopus stew won in the end. A cephalopod in the kitchen clapped all eight tentacles.
We waited for a reasonable ten minutes, particularly reasonable when considering a full house. There are a few tables inside the long and narrow restaurant itself but they had been placed out of action by having chairs inverted upon them.
While we waited we realised that there was one thing missing. Cuban music – or any music for that matter – could help to liven up the place. Perhaps music just hasn’t been installed yet. It is too early in the day to judge this sort of thing.
I’d ordered vegetables and potato wedges with my veal, picking these over salad and French fries. The vegetables were really lovely. They had been grilled just enough to keep the texture of courgettes and peppers, while the aubergine had been done a little more as it should be. I hadn’t expected this because I’m so used to being disappointed with the veg on the side at much more pretentious restaurants. The wedges were the standard identical ones that come out of a bag so they’re not surprising or remarkable but they do the trick.
The veal had been lightly coated in flour and was extremely tender. The rather generous portion was true to its name and had been liberally doused in freshly squeezed lemon. This is not the pinnacle of meat eating and yet it is tasty, light, and very comforting. It was exactly what I needed at that particular moment and I savoured it like I’d just bitten into the side of a very spoilt Kobe cow.
The octopus stew was also quite well executed. It is served with a couple of small slices of Maltese bread so, in the name of this column, I dipped bread and tried it out. Thick and intensely flavoured, the stew is reasonably spicy and packed with tender octopus and chunks of potato. It is quite close to the traditional home-cooked variant and I’m happy that the tourists who opt for this dish will leave with a favourable impression of one of our specialities.
Once again, the bill was for €45. We’d taken the more expensive items on the menu short of ordering a steak yet I believe we could have paid less elsewhere, especially since we hadn’t added a bottle of wine to the bill.
The location comes into play here, and evens things out. It seems like Paparazzi has a worthy successor, and I see those red polo shirts being kept very busy throughout the summer, serving decent food and good cheer to a permanently packed terrace.
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